


your makeup stains my pillowcase (like i'll never be the same)

by gavorn



Category: Fall Out Boy, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: F/M, M/M, Other, dubcon, trans girl ryan - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-23
Updated: 2016-06-23
Packaged: 2018-07-16 22:07:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7286491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gavorn/pseuds/gavorn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>au where ryan lives in chicago and tracks down pete after an early fob show. trans girl ryan. underage. possibly dubcon due to the age difference. if that's not something you're comfortable with don't read, please.</p>
            </blockquote>





	your makeup stains my pillowcase (like i'll never be the same)

pete's selfish, and pete's just a man, and maybe it's okay if he lets himself have this.  
it's not like ryan is a saint, ryan who knows what she's doing with her tongue and narrow hips and mascara smeared down her cheeks. she's young, and she looks it, and she knows it.  
maybe, pete thinks, maybe he can get some kind of plea bargain. because he hasn't even drank tonight, he can't blame this on anything but him (and his dick.) this girl, waiting after the show, pete spotting her in the crowd. she's taller than the other girls, taller than he is. maybe that's why he chose her, knows he shouldn't have but knows he's going to anyway. she beams, follows him easily with his bass-callused fingers around her wrist. he doesn't mean to be so pushy, but she makes it so easy, doesn't fight at all.  
"i'm ryan," she says, biting her lip at him.

  
he knew what she was back there for- the same thing as the others. but tonight he chose ryan, all tall and skinny and bones, ripped tights and miniskirt on legs that seriously go up to pete's chest or something. she's pretty- babyfaced enough that pete doubts she's legal, but he's crossed that moral boundary a long time ago.  
he gets her into what seems to be a storage closet, and she drops to her knees the second the door is closed and pete's back is pressed against it, all fluttery eyelashes and pink lips.  
"can i?" she asks, and when pete nods she coos as she works his belt open. she's seen the pictures- everyone has-she knows what she's getting herself into. she doesn't seem any less awed as she yanks his skinny jeans down, licks at the bat skull tattoo like she can't help herself. she's making noises like something out of a porno, and as much as pete doubts their sincerity his cock doesn't seem to mind. he pulls her up and she makes a disappointed sound at not getting to taste.

  
pete doesn't normally kiss girls after blowjobs, but. well. he presses her back against the wall, leaning up on his tiptoes to reach her, pulling her head down and kissing rough and messy. he's not particularly fond of the taste of his own dick, but there's something else, too, most likely her lipgloss (peach?). pete works a hand between them and she freezes, flinches back against the wall.  
he's not going to force her into anything, but he's still hoping she's not having second thoughts when he backs off and waits for her to speak.  
"um," she says, voice lower and scratchier, "i," she says, "you can," and pete wants to ask if she's sure but he's not that nice a guy.  
he pushes her back against the wall, one hand on her ass (somewhat flat, but surprisingly nice) and one reaching under her (homemade) (fall out boy) t-shirt. he can feel the lace of her bra on his fingertips and she relaxes into the touch, lets him grope her (tiny) chest. she's really surprisingly flat, pete thinks. it shouldn't come as much of a surprise when he feels something pressing against him from under her skirt, but it does, though he's only taken off guard for a moment before shrugging. if she says she's a girl, she is, then, and as long as she doesn't expect him to suck her off or anything then he'll be fine.

  
she's pushing her hips back like she's scared of him finding out, which he finds kind of sweet in some fucked way. he doesn't mind, not really- as much as he happens to dislike cocks that aren't his own he's rather fond of asses, and if that's what she wants he'll gladly oblige her. once he's groped her dick enough he thinks she's not quite so afraid (which, again, sweet, honestly), she swallows hard as pete sucks on her neck, says "i have-i have lube, if you," and pete says "yeah, yes, okay," waits for her to scramble in her tiny black purse. once she gets back up it's easy enough for him to slick his fingers, slide in two at first because he never said he was patient. the way she groans makes him wonder if she's even done this before. (if he had a conscience, it would be bothered, but he thinks he killed it a long time ago.) she's squirming, grinding her hips back- it's clear enough she likes it, and that's reason enough for pete to continue. he doesn't realize how long it's been until she speaks, voice shaky, just a few words.  
"please," she says, "just do it," and he's not about to refuse her. she's making noises like he's the best thing that's ever happened to her, god's gift to the prostate, and as much as he knows he's not that spectacular a lay he isn't about to correct her either. he doesn't realize he's speaking until he processes the string of words he's muttering under his breath. it's all things like "whore" and "fucking pretty" and "easy" and he doesn't know he's saying them until she's agreeing, pushing back on him, saying "i am," and "peter."  
she comes against the wall and drops back to her knees, still panting and moaning and dropping her pretty pink mouth open. "on me," she says, half a plea, "peter, please, on me, please-"  
he can't say no to her.

  
she swallows whatever gets in her mouth like it's candy, and really, pete wonders where he found this girl.  
he pulls her into a bathroom and wipes off what's left on her face, apologizes. she's still looking at him like he's the second coming of christ.  
he's never sure what to do with this part. she seems to know better than he does, though, whipping out her lipgloss and reapplying it at the mirror, writing her number down on a scrap of paper she presses into his hand and leaving a sticky peach mark on his cheek. pete's mostly stunned into silence. this is the most forward she's been since he brought her back here.  
"ryan," she says again, doe eyes and sincerity. "call me, okay?" (he doesn't think he will, but who knows. he keeps her number anyway.)  
she slips out and he sits on the sticky bathroom floor, stares at the ceiling, wonders what he's gotten himself into.

  
patrick pries open the door. he's got a hand over his eyes, says "please tell me you have your pants on."  
"don't worry," pete tells him, and patrick comes in, sits next to him. "you're my ride home," he says, and pete shrugs and pulls his keys out.he's not sure where they're playing next, but he knows that joe already took care of all the instruments, as he always does.  
pete gets up, pulls patrick to his feet and gives him a kiss on the cheek. "dude," patrick says, "if you give me herpes i'm going to be pissed."  
"i know," pete says mildly.  
they go home.


End file.
